| Electrified harmonious
|
| I think I’ll take it out to the streets
|
| Will somebody please help me?
|
| Call the doctor but don’t call the police
|
| Yeah, cool
|
| Are you into the beat?
|
| Are you into the beat?
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me mad
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me crazy
|
| It’s driving me crazy
|
| It’s driving me mad
|
| I wish I were an astronaut
|
| Space-case making the scene, yeah
|
| Put me in a hospital
|
| Lock me up and throw out the key
|
| Hey, hey, hey, hey
|
| Are you into the beat?
|
| I’m the king of the beat
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me mad
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me crazy
|
| It’s driving me crazy
|
| Now, shut up and dance
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me mad
|
| I can feel it in my teeth, ooh
|
| I can feel it in my teeth
|
| And it’s driving me crazy
|
| It’s driving me crazy
|
| It’s driving me mad
|
| Yeah, yeah
|
| We live in an environment whose entire population of critics and no painters to
|
| be found
|
| Where have all the storytellers gone?
|
| Just when did I become so eaten up by moss and covered in a cloak of popularity?
|
| And then I lose my voice in between the echoes of self-serving prophecy
|
| A captain without his ship
|
| A chief—a chief without a tribe
|
| A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear his cheeks slap together and
|
| worship the sound of his own voice
|
| A muffled cry—a muffled cry—a muffled cry—a muffled cry
|
| Power con—caved inside a woman
|
| To configure through the mythical power of the trees, the graphics being paper
|
| th—
|
| Paper thin garments and garments and garments and garments and garments and
|
| garments and garments and garments
|
| Pray for summer days
|
| The rain and wind is so strong outside my window
|
| And winter’s always searching for another
|
| I hear—I hear his cheeks slap together and worship his own voice
|
| Lou—louder? |
| Okay, alright
|
| I’m so tired of the demands of this world
|
| Her nagging voice
|
| The song she sings, the songs that she desires
|
| She cries out in the heat of her passions
|
| Her legs spread ready for—ready for a stranger
|
| The captain without his ship
|
| A chief w—a chief without a tribe
|
| A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear his cheeks slap together and
|
| worship the sound of his own voice
|
| I dare not take another drink until it’s gone
|
| Just when did I become so eaten up by moss and covered in a cloak of popularity?
|
| When I lose my voice in between the echoes of self-serving prophecy |